


Piece of Mind

by ilovemanicures



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Jason Todd is Dead, M/M, Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemanicures/pseuds/ilovemanicures
Summary: In which Bruce knows he needs to be there for his eldest son.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xdatenshibluex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xdatenshibluex/gifts).



> So I wasn't going to publish this, but my best friend/little sister convinced me that I should.
> 
> So blame her for the OOC Bruce Wayne and the sobbing mess that is Dick Grayson.

You know it's coming. You haven't slept in three days because you _know_ it's coming.

You saw it in his deep blue eyes, in the way he held himself when Iris West hugged him, and with the way he kept his jaw locked tight.

Noticed how he refused to open his mouth despite everyone asking if he was ok, choosing to simply nod and shake his head at the appropriate times.

Pft.

Of course he wasn't ok.

But he wouldn't let them know that. After all, you trained him well. His face was completely blank in front of them. Even after the three of you returned to the mansion and it was just you and Alfred around.

But you knew him too well. Hell, you _raised_ him. Despite how hard he tried, he couldn't hide from you.

And although he was fully aware of that fact, he tried to anyway.

So that is how you found yourself laying in your bed, three days later, shrouded In darkness, alert and waiting.

You can tell Alfred is worried. For both of you, of course. But knowing there is nothing he can do for Dick right now, he puts most of his energy into trying to convince you to rest.

Even though you stopped being a young boy a long time ago, he still fusses over you.

Had there not been more pressing matters at hand, you would find the time to smile at the thought.

But you suppose having children just brings that out in a person. Blood or not. Alfred had brought you up as his own, just as you have done for Dick Grayson.

Your mind begins to drift. Thinking of that tragic night that had brought the two of you together. You weren't even twenty five years old, but you knew you couldn't leave him.

There was something about that haunted look in the boys eyes that reminded you too much of yourself.

The day all the paper work had been signed and Richard John Grayson was officially your ward, you remember making a silent promise to yourself to never let that awful look come across his features ever again.

You failed him, of course. Twice now.

Because now he was hurting once more and there was nothing you could do to make it better. It's been five years since Jason... Richard was only just starting to get his life back together... You know how the young heroes mind works, you know that he's blaming himself for the death of Wally West, just as he had with Jason Todd.

Though try as you might, you couldn't fully chastise him for his mindset. It's a thought process you both share, seeing as how you still hold yourself fully accountable for your fallen protégé as well.

Tim pointed out, on more than one occasion, that despite not being related by blood, you and Dick were much the same. Even Alfred used to say, whenever you and Dick argued, " _the apple does not fall far from the tree. Sir."_

Admitting this only confirms that It is going to take _a lot_ of work to get him through this.

You allow a quiet sigh to escape your lips.

First his parents.. then his brother... now this.

A part of you was afraid he wouldn't be able to come back from this. Knew from experience that the human heart could only take so much.

Hell, you don't know how you would've reacted if something like this ever happened to Selina—

A heart breaking sound echoes from down the hall.

There it was. The dam breaking. You knew it was coming, so you waste no time and steal yourself and quickly head towards his room at the end of the long hall.

He's sitting on the bench in the bay window, head turned away from you leaning against the glass, arms wrapped around himself like he's trying to hold himself together.

Another sound escapes him.

It's the same noise that alerted you that it was time.

You slowly approach him. You know he doesn't want you to see him like this, but also know that he doesn't want to be alone.

He's aware of your presence, but doesn't acknowledge you as you continue to step forward.

Doesn't have the energy to tell you to leave like you know he wants to.

The light from the full moon highlights his frame, and you do not fail to notice that he is wearing an old T-shirt Wally must have left behind on one of their many sleepovers.

You put a hand on his shoulder and although it takes a moment, he finally looks up at you.

What is normally a deep blue, is now a murky purplish color with how red his eyes are.

To you, he looks like he's eight years old again and your heart breaks the same way it did the last time you saw him like this.

You do not hesitate to sit beside him and embrace him like you would have in the past.

That seems to do the trick because he's openly sobbing now.

He cries and screams, and can't seem to stop shaking. He goes from trying to escape your hold, to clinging tighter, nails biting into your skin. Wally' name spills from his lips more than a few times, other indistinguishable words follow. It sounds like he's speaking three different languages and you hear him going back and fourth between begging for the red head to return to him, apologizing for failing, and saying it should have been him.

So you just hold him tighter.

As sorry as you may feel for Barry Allen for the loss of his nephew, you cannot help but be thankful that it wasn't him.

Thank _God_ it wasn't him...

 

•—•—•

 

You don't know how long you've both been sitting like this, but the sun is coming up and despite the occasional hiccup, his breathing has evened out enough to make you believe he's fallen asleep.

You pick him up, cradling him to your chest, like when he used to fall asleep on the couch, waiting for you to come home from work.

He's grown up so much.

God. When did this happen?

It feels like only yesterday you were teaching him how to throw his first punch.

Now he's twenty three years old.

Wow.

Too young, you realize, to know this kind of hurt.

You aren't blind. You knew they were more to each other than just friends.

Kid Flash.. Wally West.. was your sons first love.

It's been a long time since you've prayed, but as you lay him on the bed and pull the covers over him, you get down on your knees and do just that.

Because technically they don't know _what_ happened to Wally. They buried an empty casket.

The way Barry explained it, it sounded like he just vanished into the speed force.

Well that wasn't good enough for you.  Dammit.

Your son was crying, even in his sleep, over this boy. And If God was listening you would pray until your lungs gave out that Wally West could find his way back home.

Because Dick didn't deserve to lose another piece of his heart. There just wasn't that much left to spare. He feared this would be too much for the young man— God _please_ don't let this break him...

 

•—•—•

 

You didn't mean to fall asleep like that. On your knees, head resting on the space next to his pillow. But Alfred was gently shaking your shoulder now and that causes you to look up at him. There is sadness and understanding in his eyes.

But there's nothing you can think of to ease his thoughts. Something in your eyes must have conveyed this because you both slowly turn your attention to the youngest occupant in the room.

He is still asleep despite always being a light sleeper. That alone spoke volumes to how exhausted the young man truly was.

And although his pillow is completely soaked in tears, he wasn't heaving anymore. His breathing seeming to come easier now.

That was a good sign. Hopefully he was dreaming good dreams.

You slowly got up, and quietly exited the room with Alfred by your side.

He didn't say a word but you knew what he was thinking.

So you didn't protest when he guided you back to your own room. Nor when he shut the door behind him as if a silent decree had been made.

A deep sigh escapes your lips. But after giving it some thought, you suppose an hour of rest couldn't hurt. And if it would put Alfred' mind at ease, then you would do it for him.

After all, you know what it's like to worry over your sons well being. The least you could do was give the older man some peace of mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments/Kudos are always appreciated :)


End file.
